The vast command hall was drowned in a heavy silence, broken only by the distant hum of colossal machinery at work.
At the center, elevated on a pedestal of obsidian and dark metal, Thanos' throne rose like a monolith.
The Mad Titan sat still upon it, unmoving, a living statue staring into the stellar void before him.
A gray-skinned subordinate with sunken eyes approached nervously, carrying a projection device. He knelt before speaking.
"My lord… the invasion reports have arrived."
Thanos didn't answer. He merely tilted his head slightly—permission to proceed.
The device activated. A bright holographic image appeared in the air: Terrax, former herald of the World Devourer, covered in blood and cosmic energy, fighting desperately… and being effortlessly overpowered.
The being he faced was a figure wrapped in multicolored blazing light, as though it had been born at the heart of a star.The energy radiating from it made the hologram vibrate.
Thanos narrowed his eyes, thoughts unreadable—unknown even to death itself.
"Terrax…" he murmured, almost disappointed.
The hologram showed Terrax being crushed with a single blow, subdued without a trace of resistance.
The subordinate swallowed hard.
"Our… our informant managed to record fragments of the battle. The entity appeared shortly after the Chitauri offensive… which, as you… you already know… failed completely."
Thanos leaned closer, enlarging the image. The being's aura fluctuated so intensely that the projection could only capture a humanoid silhouette within that overwhelming light.
"Interesting…" he murmured.
The servant continued, struggling to choose his words.
"My lord, you offered Terrax a hundred worlds… a hundred advanced civilizations, if he secured Earth for you. But… he didn't even reach the Sorcerer Supreme. He failed… before that. And now… this entity—"
Thanos remained motionless. Listening.
"The Chitauri forces are… practically extinct," the subordinate added with a trembling voice."Perhaps… perhaps you could do something for them, my lord. Maybe—"
Silence dropped like a guillotine.
Then Thanos spoke, without turning his head:
"Did you just demand… something of me?"
The servant fell to his knees at once.
"N-no, my lord! It was a slip… an unforgivable insolence… I would never—"
A blade pierced his chest before he could finish. His body collapsed heavily.
Behind him, calmly wiping the blood from the sword, stood Gamora.
Thanos smiled softly—not cruel, not surprised. Proud.
"Welcome, my daughter. My favorite."
Gamora sheathed her weapon and knelt.
"Father."
"I have a mission for you," Thanos said, rising from his throne with deliberate slowness—as if the universe itself needed to adjust to his movement."On a distant planet there is an object… one I desire. A relic. Bring it to me."
His daughter bowed her head.
"I will."
She stood and left without another word, her firm steps echoing down the empty corridor.
Thanos was alone once more.
He turned his gaze back to the projection of the shining, sun-like being. He rested his thumb on his chin—pensive, calculating.
The creature's blinding glow reflected in his eyes like a promise… or a challenge.
"Earth…" he muttered."It seems it will be more interesting than I thought."
================================================================
POV MATT MURDOCK
The sound of the kitchen woke me up
And the room was still soaked in that perfume Elektra leaves behind whenever she decides to destroy me and fix me in the same night.
Sweat, warm skin, the rustle of fabric, the faint echo of laughs mixed with gasps.
Classic.
I reached across the bed. Empty. Not surprising.
She never stayed still for long.
The apartment was almost silent… except for metal clinking, the soft crackle of a pan, and the humid steam of a freshly poured cup.
Toast. Coffee. And that light skip in her step she had when she was in a good mood.
God, I didn't know you could perform miracles this early in my apartment.
I sat up slowly, feeling the tension in my muscles.Seems I was more enthusiastic last night than I remembered… or maybe it's just the beating those Hand ninjas gave me.
I put on my pants by touch—not that I need the help. I'm blind, not clumsy.
Elektra's light footsteps approached. Her robe brushed the edge of the bed before her warmth leaned over me.
"Good morning, Devil of Hell's Kitchen," she murmured, with that smile I hear more than I see.
She placed a warm cup in my hands. Strong, bitter coffee—the way I like it.
And a plate with two slices of toast.
"Thanks. Didn't think you were the type to make breakfast."
"Oh, I'm not," she replied, taking her own cup."But last night you put in… considerable effort. Think of this as my morning applause."
I smiled faintly. Sharp as always.
"Sleep well?"
"When I sleep with you, I always sleep well," she said plainly, knowing exactly how to make my heart skip an extra beat."But don't get used to it."
I shook my head slightly.
"I'd never."A blatant lie, but who cares.
She sat beside me. I heard the gentle cross of her legs, the robe tightening around her body—the choreography I know by heart.
"The kids behaved yesterday," she said.
Kids.
Peter would die if he heard her call him that.
"Spider-Man has talent," I murmured.
"He has fragile nerves, that's what he has. But heart too. That covers for him—at least for his little hero game. Though that nonstop talking irritates me. I wanted to sew his mouth shut."
I chuckled. Sometimes even I think the kid talks too much, but he inspires something in people that almost no one in this city can.
"Jewel was solid—she knows her role in a fight," I continued."And the new one… Legion."
Elektra fell silent—evaluating. I heard her finger slide along the cup. Deep thought. Genuine interest.
"An anomaly. Dangerous. Unpredictable."A pause."And powerful."
"You like him," I said.
"He intrigues me. Not the same. The kid knows where to draw the line in his hero game. Did you see what he did with Kouki?"
Translation: yes, she likes him.
I sipped my coffee. Needed that bitterness to wake up.
Decided to go straight to the point.
"So what are you going to do now?" I asked."Your revenge is… complete."
Her breath paused—just for a second. Barely noticeable, but to my senses, loud as a shout.
"I don't know," she admitted."I thought I would. But… everything happened so fast. I need to think. See what I want to do. The city still needs skilled hands. And… I might stay for a while. You might see me around."
The way she said it made my chest loosen a bit.
Hope, with Elektra.Rare.Dangerously rare.
"That makes me happy," I said. And I meant it. More than I should.
Not the first, or second, time she's done this to me.
She rested her head against my chest. I heard her settle, sink in, relax her shoulders. Feeling her breathing so close was… overwhelming.This woman always makes me feel like I'm in war and peace at the same time.
A few minutes passed. Quiet. Almost suspiciously quiet, considering her nature.
I inhaled deeply.
"Hate to ruin the moment… but unlike you, I have a real job I need to get to."
She didn't even wait two seconds. Smacked the back of my head.
"You ruined the moment."
I heard her stand.Her robe sliding to the floor.Steps to the bathroom.Water running—warm, steady.
I grabbed my suit and briefcase. Took a few steps toward the bathroom to say goodbye when—
The door opened.She was there.Dripping wet.Smiling like trouble incarnate.
She grabbed me by the collar and pulled me in.
I could've dodged her. I could see her standing by the door, waiting for me to walk by…
But I didn't want to.
"For ruining the moment… you'll compensate before you go play lawyer."
The door slammed behind us as she shoved me under the water and ripped my shirt open with her hands.
And honestly…I didn't complain.
================================================================
POV NICK FURY
The voices on the other side of the holographic table rise and fall like irritated waves.
They don't need to yell to try to intimidate me: I've been doing this longer than these bureaucrats have known what SHIELD even stands for.
Outwardly: professional, unbreakable.Inwardly…
A damn puzzle.
The missing artifact.The sentinel that vanished as if it never existed.The mind-control device gone without a trace.
And the common denominator buzzing in my head:
Legion.
The voices keep talking, accusing, implying incompetence.I say nothing.Sometimes silence is the best way to remind them who actually runs this place.
Legion knew we were studying him.He knew about the undercover agents.From what he said to Natasha after beating Terrax, he might even know about her past—the Black Widows, the Red Room.
It's not easy to hide things from SHIELD.Not possible without contacts, resources, or… something else.
"Director, we need clarification on your operational criteria. The confrontation with Kun-Lun could have been avoided if you had acted with more caution."
Right.Like coordinating a bunch of impulsive kids, a newly-hatched living weapon, and a mystical city that appears whenever it feels like cooperating is as simple as making a sandwich.
But I don't say that.They're not here for explanations.They're here for a scapegoat.
And it won't be me.
The kid complicated everything.Interfered with recovering the object, caused a diplomatic mess, put SHIELD and Kun-Lun on a collision course.And the worst part?Despite all that… he saved lives.
"Director Fury, are you listening?"
"I always listen," I say, tone slicing the room clean."The full report will be on your desks by 1800. My agents continue the search. We will have results. SHIELD always delivers results."
The meeting ends.The hologram flickers out.Silence.
I exhale deeply.
Legion is nothing like Stark.
Howard's boy is a constant headache, but manageable—pretty women, controlled alcohol, and Natasha Romanoff solve about 70% of that problem.
But Legion…
His tech makes him invisible to every radar, every sensor.Satellites, drones, hyperspectral cameras… nothing catches him.
Not even Stark managed something like that. And if he did, he hid it damn well.
My palms press onto the table.Fingers spread, looking for something solid.I breathe out through my nose—long, controlled.
One second.Just one.
The kid is a mystery.A force disguised as a teenager.
He saved lives.Rebuilt a city.Fought Terrax and survived.
And yet…
My instincts keep screaming there's something more.Something I'm not seeing.Something he's telling me without words, and I'm failing to read it.
I straighten up. My shoulders crack softly—tension no one else ever sees.
A fingertip rubs my temple. The start of another headache.
Maybe—just maybe—
I'm approaching him wrong.
I can't go to him as Director of SHIELD.He doesn't respond to that language.
He senses it.Avoids it.
Maybe I need something else.Something simpler.Human.
Nick Fury, the man.
Not the shadow.Not the myth.Not the director.
I glance at the dark screen, faintly reflecting my face: one tired eye, but undefeated.
Maybe… if I approach him as a person, not an institution—
The kid will finally answer.
================================================================
POV JESSICA JONES
The water is still warm when I exhale and let my head sink a little deeper into the tub. It smells like cheap soap and discount candles, but tonight… it feels like luxury.
I'm not Jewel anymore. No glitter in my hair, no ridiculous lipstick shine.
I'm just Jessica.
With dark circles, bruises on my legs, and the satisfaction of not having died today.
It went well.Everything went really well.
Daredevil didn't treat me like a kid.Elektra—death-glares aside—worked well with us.Danny was a total sweetheart.
Legion… the kid did incredibly well for his first big team mission.
If we don't count the Chitauri invasion. But that was collective insanity, not a planned op.
He is scary when he wants to be.But he also cares. He tries. He puts his heart into it.
I hope Spidey's date went well.
After all, he was the first—the first—to treat me like a real hero.He supported me even when everyone else thought I was just a girl playing dress-up.And he kept doing it.Always there when I needed him.
He deserves something good.
And Nick Fury…Nick Fury himself praised me.Not a "good job, agent." No.
A "nice work, Jewel."
Amazing what a couple of words can do when they come from the right person.
For the first time… everyone treated me as an equal.
I close my eyes, let my head tilt back and exhale.I could stay here all night.
Just then, the bathroom door bursts open.
"Jess! Jess, guess what!" my sister's voice bounces against the tiles before I can cover myself with more bubbles.
"Hi, Trish…" I say without opening my eyes. If I do, I'll be hit by nuclear enthusiasm.
"They accepted me! THEY ACCEPTED ME!" She practically jumps into the bathroom, smiling brighter than the ceiling lamp."At WNYX Radio. As a guest producer! If they like my style, they'll let me stay all week!"
I open one eye.She's adorable when she's excited.Annoying, but adorable.
"That's great—" I begin, but her smile falters slightly.
Her eyes drop.They scan me.
Bruises on my legs.Cuts on my arm.Purple marks on my ribs that the bubbles can't hide.
"Jess… what happened to you?"
There it is.The moment.It always comes.
Trish kneels by the tub, afraid she'll break me if she touches me too fast.And though I won't say it… it melts me inside.
"It was the mission," I shrug, like it's nothing."You know how it is. Chaos, big hits, a guy that turns you to stone with a stare… the usual."
She bites her lower lip.That mix of fear and pride she always gets when it comes to "Jewel."
"I want you to be safe," she says softly.
"I am safe."
"But if something happens to you—"
"Nothing will happen to me."A lie.One sisters tell each other to survive.
She fidgets with her hands—her tell for when she wants to say something but can't find the words.
Then she suddenly stands up, remembering something.
She rushes out, and in ten seconds she returns with—
Oh no.
Not that.
A suit.A prototype.
Yellow. Blue. Homemade.She puts it on over her clothes and poses.
"What… what do you think? Isn't it amazing? I thought… maybe… we could work together! I could be your partner! Hellcat!"
I rub my face with both hands.
"Trish…"
Her smile freezes.
"You don't have powers," I say gently."And what I do is dangerous. If something happened to you, I… I don't know what I'd do."
A second passes.
She lowers her eyes.Disappointed.But not broken.
She's stronger than she knows.
"You're right," she says, even though it hurts."Yeah… you're right. Sorry. I got carried away."She takes a breath and smiles again—smaller, but real."You rest. I'll make dinner. Even superheroes have to eat well."
Before leaving, she steps close again.Her hand on my shoulder.
"Jess… whatever happens, you can always count on me. Like I count on you."
I smile.A real one—the kind only she can get out of me.
"I know, Trish. Thanks."
She nods, happy with that answer.
When she leaves, the steam settles back into the room.
And me…
I sink deeper into the water again, feeling my chest tighten and loosen at the same time.
My sister.My work.My double life.
Being a hero is complicated.But having someone waiting at home… makes it a little less so.
================================================================
J. JONAH JAMESON
Friday dinner is sacred in this house.Even for someone like me.
My wife serves the roast while my youngest son debates whether he can eat three portions without passing out. I say he can't. He says he can. And thus tradition lives on.
"Dad, did you see the new NASA rocket?" he asks with his mouth full."They say it'll improve communication with the space station."
My chest swells. Impossible not to.
"Of course I saw it," I say, cutting into my meat."And your brother is probably up there laughing at us because we're still stuck on Earth like a bunch of idiots."
My wife nudges me under the table.
"Jonah, please," she says in that half-laughing tone."No bad words at dinner. And don't scare him—we might still send him to space."
My son sits up straighter.
"I'd go!" he says, very seriously.
Marla and I exchange a look and laugh at his innocence.
For a moment… nothing else matters.
Then my phone vibrates.
My hand goes to my pocket automatically.
One look.
An email from the paper.
My wife looks at me.I reply with a "just a second, darling" look.She replies with a "don't you dare" look.
Too bad, darling. I dare.
I open it.
"Preliminary report – Civilians located. Initial medical follow-up."
My eyes skim:
"...still no explanation for the incident…""...witnesses report activity in cave…""...attached photo: Spider-Man leaving the scene minutes earlier…"
My breath halts for a moment.
Spider-Man.Again.The damn Spider-Man.
"Something wrong, Dad?"
"No, son." I close the email quickly and pocket the phone."Nothing. Just… work spam."
My wife lifts an eyebrow.She knows it's not spam.She knows anything involving Spider-Man turns me into a nuclear alarm.
We keep eating.We talk about normal things: school projects, a neighbor's runaway dog, Sunday dinner.
When we finish, my son goes to his room, and I help clean the table.
"Jonah," she murmurs while washing a plate.
"Mm."
"More things from the paper?"
Her eyes slide toward me—not accusatory.Worried.
"Nothing serious," I say."Just want to check something before bed."
She sighs, but smiles anyway and kisses my cheek.
"Love you," she says softly."But don't stay up too late."
"I'll try."
I climb the stairs to the attic.Each step creaks like it knows exactly where I'm going.
I open the door.
Cold air.Paper.Ink.Obsession.
Walls covered with red strings, clippings, photos…
And at the center of everything:
Spider-Man.
I turn on the lamp.
The printer spits out the attached photo: Spider-Man leaving the cave.
I hold it.
That ridiculous suit.Those circus poses.That friendly-neighborhood-hero attitude…
And yet he always shows up where he shouldn't.
I pin the photo on the wall.Connect it with a red string.Grab a marker and write:
INVOLVED?
I step back.
The puzzle is incomplete, but another piece fits in place.
Something doesn't add up.Something never adds up with that masked menace.
From below I hear:
"J. JONAH JAMESON!! DON'T FORGET YOUR PILLS!!"
I jump—and almost drop the marker.
Breathing hard, I shout back:
"COMING, HONEY! JUST A SECOND!"
I look at the photo again.
"What are you plotting now, spider…?"
Then I go downstairs to take my pills.
Even the greatest hunters of truth need to take care of their heart.
===============================================================
THAT'S ALL FOR NOW, GUYS. WITH THE NEXT CHAPTERS WE'LL BE SEEING THE PROTAGONIST'S DAY-TO-DAY LIFE, THE NEWS, AND A FEW INTERACTIONS HERE AND THERE.
I'M THINKING ABOUT CHANGING THE COVER, SO LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK.
I'D ALSO REALLY APPRECIATE IT IF AT SOME POINT ANY OF YOU COULD LEAVE A SMALL REVIEW — YOU KNOW, THOSE LITTLE THINGS THAT HELP THE SITE NOTICE THE STORY.
SEE YOU IN THE NEXT CHAPTER, FOLKS. TAKE CARE :)